Stalling
by utdfan22
Summary: Ares is expected to retreat from Julius' range when the Liberation Army attempts to capture Barhara unless Seliph is right there beside him (a strategy usually reserved only for when Julia dies). What if Ares' pride wouldn't allow such an act. Features Ares being beaten senseless by Julius' magic, the new character names from Awakening's DLC and slight Ares/ Leen towards the end.


**Author's Note: I decided to do a piece on Ares but I didn't feel this fit in well enough with Endings of Jugdral. So instead, Ares gets his own story. **

**P.S. This story is largely from Ares' POV, although it isn't first person, what draws his attention and his thoughts will be the focus.**

**P.P.S. Yes, I'm using the new names… may as well join the system and make it as easy for people to follow as possible. And I never have to spell Skittlebit's names (all thirty or so interpretations of that mess of kanji) ever again. Although I did think Alster was Ulster in the world with the Jugdral continent.**

**As always, constructive criticism welcome and encouraged.**

The Mysteltainn made a horrible snapping sound as it plunged through the Deadlord's chest, the sword piercing clean through her entire upper body and poking out the other side. It probably even severed the creature's spine, as Ares noted whilst admiring his own strength.

The Shaman had been the last of the oddities to fall, her beautiful hair splayed out carelessly in the dirt as her hollow gaze looked skyward, the dying (or possibly long dead, Ares corrected) woman not offering even a hint of resistance as she met her faith. Still, that only left the final phase of Seliph's orders to be carried out, retreating away from Barhara and awaiting the arrival of the Light Prince and his sister, Julia.

Ares spotted of Ced and Leif moving away from the battlefield, their share of the fallen Deadlords strewn about like broken dolls and covered in a multitude of deep cuts.

Ares tugged at his reins to move his black horse along, the creature started trotting along at a decent pace when Ares' eyes caught sight of something in the shadow of the castle's doorway.

The imposing gates were thrown wide open yet an ominous blackness seeming to block the sunlight from piercing its depths. What little could be seen within was so engulfed in its surroundings that it twisted and morphed their shapes into intimidating caricatures within any onlookers' imaginations.

Naturally, this extended to the thin figure standing in its archway, his crimson eyes resembling a demon's as fiery red hair fell about his shoulders. Ares' hand instinctively brought his horse to a stop and his eyes narrowed in hatred at the castle's master.

Julius' head leaned forward with a taunting smirk as he appraised Ares with spoiled eyes that had seen every luxury that Jugdral's continent had to offer.

Ares' blood began to boil at the patronising glance, his right hand moving to the Mysteltainn instinctively, the implied threat clear from the tensing of his muscles as he clutched at the demon blade's hilt more tightly than was his norm. He would never admit it but the mere sight of Loptous' reincarnation sent a chill up his spine, the same one that had almost paralysed him in Miletos when Julius had demonstrated his power outside the merchants' city.

Ares' minor flash of spirit was met with a bored sigh as Julius shook his head and re-entered his castle, disappearing in a yellow burst of light resembling a pentagram.

Ares felt his hands shaking as he gritted his teeth aggressively, violent thoughts flowing through his mind as the silent encounter played out in his mind.

All the while he could hear Seliph's orders ringing in his ears, _"Deal with the Deadlords and then retreat from Julius' range… I'm going to save my sister and bring back the Book of Naga."_

The fabled Book of Naga… the most powerful tome in existence and the only Holy Weapon that could hope to match Julius'. They had won all they could up to this point and now had to leave the battlefield before the real hero arrived to save them.

They had specifically waited until news of Seliph's return from Velthomer before moving in to attack the Deadlords, confident their leader would be back soon enough to confront his morally-maligned sibling.

Ares had been content to go along with that plan right up until he saw Julius himself… Ares would not be another coward living under that manipulative, child-murdering brat's shadow!

Grannvale, in any form, could never again be allowed to trivialise Agustria's strength as it had in the conflict which drove his mother to her death in Leonster and his father to his execution. That was a step too far for the loyalty Ares offered the Liberation Army's cause.

Ares silently apologised to Leen for what he was about to do, well aware that the Dancer would not approve. Ares just hoped that she would understand why he was charging into Barhara to challenge the demon within. He couldn't, as Agustria's future king, just allow the world's fate to be determined by the Grannvale royalty while he stood off to the side.

His ego and anger overriding his common sense carried him into the castle itself where Julius looked on from the steps leading to the throne room. His slight surprise at the Holy Inheritor's appearance melted into measured amusement as he chuckled at the black armour-clad warrior before him.

"I was letting you leave earlier." Julius informed him with an unpleasant twinkle in his eye, "I'm awaiting my dear brother you see and don't have the time to properly enjoy you right now."

Ares privately noted that Julius had opted to reference Seliph instead of Julia, despite the latter posing the larger threat. Ares formed a smirk of his own beneath his helmet at that, _"Not as all-knowing as I expected."_

Unable to see the subtle shift, or simply choosing to ignore it, Julius produced a Meteor tome from his robes, the same one he'd harassed them with during the battle with the Deadlords.

"Care for a running start?" Julius queried mockingly whilst holding out the offending tome towards Ares.

The Agustrian Paladin took the opportunity to draw the Mysteltainn and swing the fearsome blade towards Julius' throat. Ares' eyes widened when Julius barely even flinched at the sudden motion… even when his neck was struck cleanly with the sharpened edge of the sword.

Ares' shock numbed him to the strange pressure gathered around Julius' neck that manifested as a tiny blackish-purple pocket of air.

Julius' grin only widened as his confidence in charging the entire Liberation Army outside Miletos made increasing sense to Ares with every horrible, drawn-out second that ticked by.

Undeterred, Ares attempted a second swing but had barely moved the black sword before a draconic figure passed his vision amidst a flash of dark light, freezing him to the spot at the sudden suffocating power that seemed to surround him. A force gripped at his stomach in the interim, twisting his innards into a painful knot before allowing them to spring back into place like a released rubber band.

The effect was instantaneous as Ares was knocked from his horse and crashed to the ground with a loud clang from his armour, one of his hands touching his stomach gingerly while a blackish/ reddish substance oozed freely from his mouth. His horse blindly charged forward deeper into the castle depths, its fear leaving Ares without a method of quick escape and trapping him inside the range of Julius' attacks.

"Uh." Ares managed to groan out as his bleary vision readjusted to see a hazy Julius standing over him, a hand previously hidden under his cloak now visibly gripping a purple book with a black dragon flying inside a red diamond on the centre.

Ares' fingers instinctively clenched the hilt of the Mysteltainn… its divine protection against magic probably the only thing that was keeping him alive.

"It really is a matter of scale. You didn't stand a chance." Julius explained as he flipped Loptous' tome open and his eyes skimmed the page, his hand rising to target Ares for the final strike.

The blond Paladin struggled to move, refusing to lie down and die, when a sudden feeling of refreshment rushed through him. The foreign burst of power gave him just enough strength to swing out his sword and make contact with Julius' shoulder.

The attack was stopped much like the earlier one (Julius probably feeling only the tiniest bump if he'd even felt that much), but Julius did react more, jumping backwards to put some distance between the now unmounted Paladin and himself.

His discerning gaze was carefully following Ares's every errant twitch, looking for some explanation for the sudden rush of energy.

When Ares moved to charge forward, Julius simply raised his hand again and the power of his inherited tome ripped through Ares' defence, dragging at his skin and pulling it taut over his bones, his skeleton pushing against its meaty confines as it shrivelled around the bones and squeezed tighter with every passing second.

Ares was forcibly bent over by the sheer agony of the second attack, a somewhat familiar sensitivity worsening his suffering from the first occasion by at least double.

Ares could feel Julius' gaze burning into his back but couldn't muster the energy to return the gesture, his entire body screaming in protest at even the instinctive motion of clinging to the Mysteltainn like a very sharp safety blanket.

His musing of this was cut short by a warm feeling pulling at him and eviscerating the pain within a span of seconds, leaving only a faint sting and the powerful memory of the previous pain as his flesh regained its normal thickness.

Julius' follow-up was almost instantaneous, the overwhelming suffering racing through Ares' nervous system before his healing had even been completed.

As Ares stewed in his agony, Julius walked towards the door, his gaze locked onto something just outside Ares' vision as the tall man crawled towards his regal opponent whilst having to desperately fight to avoid being overwhelmed by his injuries.

He'd just about gotten to the edge of the door when Julius' target came into view… a younger teen with bright blond hair and a glowing Reserve Staff held up in the air.

"Corpul, run!" Ares shouted at the sight, panic overtaking him as the Meteor spell came into existence in the air just above Corpul's head, giving him almost no room to dodge.

Ares barely registered the fact that he'd been healed when he'd started sprinting forward and he completely ignored the amused smirk on Julius' face.

The ball of fire crashed down and consumed its High Priest target in an overwhelming blaze of blinding orange.

Ares pointed the resistance enhancing Mysteltainn forward, piercing the fire and trying to drive away the unnatural flames even before the misaimed portion of Loptous' power suffocated itself.

As the blaze evaporated (no thanks to Ares' wild swings as he would later acknowledge) a relatively unharmed Corpul emerged from its afterglow with a determined grimace. Ares blinked at the few black spots of ash dotting Corpul's frame before noticing his good health.

Ares could barely appreciate the good fortune before the black dragon consumed the entirety of his field of vision once more, shadows overcoming the entirety of his consciousness as a sharp tear seemed to erupt throughout the very core of his being.

His entire body fell forward as he collapsed into an unresponsive heap just beside the now frightened Corpul; all he could perceive was an endless amount of pain that made even the feared Black Knight seek to curl into himself and cower away from the world.

His perception finally faded with just one other sound reaching his ears and it was the (possibly hallucinatory) taunting laughter of the Prince of Darkness mocking Ares for his weakness and failure to protect the other members of the Liberation Army.

All the while the Mysteltainn remained firmly in his grasp, his instinctive hold connecting to his ancient birth right long after all functions of higher thought were lost.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXX

Ares awoke with a start in an unusually comfortable bed, surrounded by the usual luxurious trappings of luxury… soft curtains, fine-quality bed sheets and the odd painting or two hanging upon the wall. He was definitely in Barhara because every previous Grannvale castle didn't have any chambers this fine that weren't intended for the actual inhabitants.

Ares didn't exactly have confidence issues but he was aware that Julia, Seliph, Leif and one or two others would take preference when it came to assigning the finer living quarters. On the other hand he'd always had a room just for himself and Leen so he was slightly better off than the non-Heim blessed Grannvale nobles at least.

His attempt to sit up was met with a determined protest, the adrenaline-like effects of the healing staff having worn off and leaving his own body to deal with a portion of the pain without the actual deeper injuries.

Ares tried to recall what had happened to lead him here. He remembered killing the Shaman Deadlord, attacking Julius, failing to harm him, rushing to save Corpul and all of that tinged with an otherworldly suffering far beyond any he had ever known.

His pride deflated, Ares fell onto his back and slammed the wall behind him with his fist in frustration.

"_At least we won; it's the only explanation for why I'm still alive."_ Ares thought pensively, failing to find the expected high of victory in the sentiment.

He was grateful and all but he had done something absolutely idiotic in a fit of temper, as much the fool as his father had supposedly been when he attempted to reason with Agustria's mad king (according to his cousin Nanna's version of the story, anyway).

Ares took a moment to mentally count to ten, calming himself down enough to breathe a slightly relieved sigh. He had survived from right in front of Julius, so that meant that Leen… _"Corpul!"_

Ares rolled out of the bed and landed on his feet with a grunt of pain, struggling towards the door groggily under the previous battle's fatigue.

His shirt had been left on a drawer beside his boots and his arm automatically reached out to gingerly grip the article of clothing, the action made far more difficult due to the stiffness affecting his muscles.

"Yeah Corpul, he's just in here, sleeping like a- Ares, what are you doing?!" Leen shouted as she opened the door and caught sight of the Black Knight fumbling with his shirt as he tried to pull it over his head with shaking hands.

Ares lowered the infuriating garment and gave Leen a polite nod before catching sight of the young priest beside her and falling back onto his bedding in relief.

"It's over." Ares managed to squeeze out amidst his surprisingly exhausted breaths, his previous sleep having done little to alleviate his exhaustion.

His attempt to deflect attention from his own actions was met with Leen leaning over his face and staring at him with a very unimpressed frown.

"So, what were you thinking out there?" Leen asked calmly but the frustration was boiling under the surface the same way it had when she'd begged him not to follow Jabarro into the battle against Sir Seliph.

Ares recognised the signs but was uncertain how to react, so he decided to give the factual answer, "I was thinking that I could kill Julius and end the war."

Leen's expression grew darker as she coldly informed him, "You'd be dead if Sir Seliph hadn't arrived with Julia when he did. Or if Corpul hadn't decided to shield your body from Julius' Meteor tome."

"Corpul did what?" Ares asked, his eyes rolling onto the sheepish looking blond awkwardly rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.

"He saved your life. More than once." Leen explained like it was some mortal sin Ares had committed, her protectiveness for the younger brother-esque figure overwhelming her concern for her boyfriend's largely self-induced injuries.

Ares sighed at that, giving Corpul a small grin, "Thanks, I guess I owe you one."

Corpul looked vaguely alarmed at the statement and his panicked response came rushing out of his mouth, "No, no, it's fine, really. It's a priest's job to heal others and it's all I'm really good for. Besides I've never had a problem taking magical attacks, Oifaye says it because I have major Edda blood, so-"

Leen's slim hand covered his mouth to cut off his ramblings as she gently whispered in his ear, "Breathe."

Corpul's face tinged pink at the sudden contact and he complied wordlessly without as much as a squeak of protest.

She gently patted him on the shoulder before nodding to the door, her eyes widening pleadingly. Corpul was scampering out the door and down the hall with a flushed face before Ares could say another word.

Leen's giggle at the boy's flustered state brought a possessive smirk to Ares' face… the woman making that beautiful sound was completely and only his.

Or she would be again once she'd finished chewing him out/ pleading with him to never do something so stupid again. The more cynical part of his brain noted that it would be difficult to find something that even could be considered as dumb as challenging the chosen vessel of what amounted to a God to a duel but Ares figured he was in enough trouble as was.

Leen's tact changed as she moved closer to his bed, gesturing for him to lie down properly before she climbed in with him and lowered her head onto his bare chest.

Ares had never been comfortable with displays of affection before he'd met Leen, his mother having died before she could impart any that he could remember and Jabarro determined to sharpen him into a powerful weapon that would unquestioningly follow his commands. Nowadays Ares had come to look forward to times they could be like this, something only exacerbated by Leen's stay in Bramsel's dungeon.

"You could have died over nothing." Leen murmured against his chest, a hint of accusation lingering beneath her lazy contentment.

"Sorry 'bout that." Ares responded quietly, the more bull-headed traits of his pride having long since evaporated in regards to his fiancée, "I just couldn't let Grannvale hold the entire continent in its grasp again, place its leaders on that pedestal."

"Pedestal?" Leen asked, clearly annoyed with his logic. "Loptou and Naga completely overshadow the other Gods and their descendants do likewise. You don't have a choice about their 'pedestal' because it's a fact. It's just how things are."

Ares rubbed her back by way of an apology, acknowledging her point while subtly clenching his free hand into an irritated fist. Leen was kind but blunt, it was one of the things that he loved most about her… but he still wished he spent less time on the receiving end of that alluring trait of hers.

"Don't misunderstand me… I no longer hold any grudge against Seliph. I think he will be a peaceful Emperor but I cannot allow myself to live in his shadow. Agustria needs a king who can stand side-by-side with any of Jugdral's rulers if it is ever to be reconstructed."

"You're just looking for excuses." Leen said dryly while looking up to meet his slightly startled eyes, "Your stupid pride latched onto the first one it could find to race in and take your chances with Julius."

"Leen…"

"Let me finish." Leen interrupted sharply, the Dancer's glare worsening as she gripped Ares' face to force him to look her right in the eye, "Agustria needs its king now more than ever. If you had died before you claimed the throne, what would have happened? Unrest in the country would have worsened until Sir Seliph was eventually been forced to annexe it to finally stop the bloodshed"

Ares' complaints died in his throat at the hypothesized turn of events, his memory lingering on something Oifey had once told him about saving a childhood friend mothballing into the subjugation of two sovereign nations.

Leen simply continued through her rant, her voice becoming slightly quieter "I was terrified of losing you, you idiot."

She said the last word with a teasing tone, leaning up to kiss Ares on the nose before snuggling against his body properly to drift off to sleep.

Feeling the comforting warmth against him worsened Ares' drowsy state and he found his own eyes shutting involuntarily.

The experience would not drastically alter Ares' personality but he did take the gesture to heart, his thoughts of Naga invading encouraging his survival rather than his bravado for the brief peaceful moment.

Still, as Ares' consciousness faded, one last little doubt managed to rear its head.

"_If placed in that position again… I don't think I would be able to change my actions. I don't even think I'd want to."_

**Author's Notes: Not sure how this one came out, just throwing out an idea knocking around in my head. It was either this or watching Faval slaughter some Verdanian bandits. Maybe next time… I think I have an idea for a ruling fic in regards to Faval's Verdane.**

**Anyway, I suppose this is the part where I briefly note something about the characters and my interpretation of them. For brevity's sake, I'll just say Ares isn't normally this stupid but the circumstances are exasperating. His entire nation was subjugated while waiting for word from Grannvale's royal family and his father's inactivity led to both his death and (due to the relocation to Leonster the aforementioned lack of action forced) his mother's. He might have some issues about repeating the actions.**

**I do also like to think of Ares as being confident to the point where it would be arrogance if not for the fact of his overwhelming power. The thought of running away from an army is one thing, but from a single foe… not likely. Could also be construed as something left over from his father, a particularly stupid act brought on by what one could consider a good trait if it wasn't in such excess (Elthosan= Loyalty, Ares= Bravery/ Confidence).**

**P.S. Waiting for Awakening in Europe is agony (seven more weeks to go).**


End file.
